


Nostalgia

by SophBee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comfort, Drarry, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:22:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6100216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophBee/pseuds/SophBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This scene was altogether too familiar for Harry's liking. It reeked of nostalgia, and of darker times, but it was impossible to walk away now; Harry didn't have the strength to do so."</p><p> </p><p>Fire still haunts Draco, and Harry realises he holds no malice for his once arch-enemy. Times have changed.</p><p>Set in eighth year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nostalgia

This scene was altogether too familiar for Harry's liking. It reeked of nostalgia, and of darker times, but it was impossible to walk away now; Harry didn't have the strength to do so.

Draco had his back to Harry, of course, but this time he didn't notice Harry's presence, didn't look into the mirror in front of him and spy the reflection of his archenemy-turned-casual-acquaintance standing at the doorway to the bathroom behind him. On the contrary, Draco was entirely preoccupied with tearing his school robes from his body, flinging them with great force to the stone floor before beginning to battle with his tie. Even from a decent distance, Harry could tell that Draco's breathing was shallow and panicked.

"Malfoy," Harry's call was gentle, so as not to further upset the already panicked boy. It went unheeded, so Harry took a few slow steps forward. "Malfoy!" He tried again. Draco acknowledged him.

"Go away, go away, leave me alone!"

"Malfoy, what's wrong?"

Draco continued to fight the tie around his neck, only succeeding in making the knot tighter and more stubborn.

"Draco! Stop that!"

He stopped, looking at Harry briefly, with a hand still on his seemingly relentless tie. Something like a sob fell from Draco's lips as he gave another tug and looked at Harry, eyes wide and full of despair. "Get this off me," he whispered. "Please, Harry."

It's the first time Draco has ever called Harry by his given name, and something about that tells Harry just how upset and in need Draco is at this moment. He closes the distance between them without a second thought, gently removing Draco's shaking hand from the green striped tie, before carefully working out the knot and removing the offending item. For good measure, he quickly pops out the top button of Draco's shirt, pulling the collar away from the blonde's neck to give him room to breathe.

"It's off now, look," Harry holds up the tie briefly before tossing it to join the robes on the floor. "Now are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Immediately, Harry knows he's said the wrong thing, as Draco's breathing quickens and his entire body seems to tremble. Harry registers what's happening, and gently invites Draco to sit down. He does so shakily, as though he isn't entirely sure that his body is his own, and has forgotten how to move his long limbs. Harry drops to the ground in front of Draco, a few feet away, and instructs the panicked boy to copy his slow breathing. Draco does, eyes fixed on Harry's mouth as Harry counts the length of each inhale, hold, exhale, and after a few minutes he seems much less likely to pass out. A few minutes of silence pass, Draco's gaze now fixed on the stone floor between his own crossed legs and those opposite him, before Harry speaks.

"Draco, does this happen often?"

Draco begins to shake his head before pausing, raising his gaze to meet Harry's. "Depends what 'often' means, but it happens occasionally, yes."

"Do you want to talk about what set it off?"

Again, a shake of the head quickly turns to a reluctant sigh and "I guess so".

A moment passes before anything else is said. "It was fire. It's almost always fire. Ever since the fiend fyre even the sight of a candle flame makes me break into a sweat. Today was worse than that. Some seventh year thought it would be hilarious to charm a statue to blow fire at me when I walked past. It wasn't real fire, of course, and it didn't hurt me, but suddenly I couldn't breathe and I ran and somehow I ended up here and oh Merlin I thought I was going to die and really, I should; I don't even deserve to live after everything I've done-"

His breathing was picking up pace again, and Harry quickly moved forward and rested his hand on Draco's forearm. "Stop that. Don't ever say that you don't deserve to live."

"But I don't." Draco's eyes don't water - a Malfoy doesn't cry in public - but even so he looks broken. He doesn't know why he's just poured out most of his soul to Harry Potter of all people, but something about Harry feels safe, and Merlin knows they haven't hated each other in a long time.

"Yes, you bloody well do!" Harry's voice is soft but firm, and Draco wants to wrap himself up in it. He stares openly at the green eyes mere centimetres from his own. "This is still your panic talking, alright? I don't believe for one second that you truly think you deserve to die, so don't you dare say it. I went through months of thinking the same thing, but I'm still here. And, most importantly, I'm happier now. You'll be happy again, Draco, I promise you that."

The words hang heavy in the air as Draco absorbs them, and suddenly - because really, he doesn't care one iota about Malfoy etiquette - there are tears in his eyes and glistening on his cheeks, and somehow he feels like maybe Potter is right. However, in this moment, Draco is still broken and scared, and he hopes Harry can understand that.

He does.

A warm, sturdy arm wraps itself around Draco's heaving shoulders and draws him in until Draco's head is tucked under Harry's, and each inhale carries a scent that will forever be ingrained in Draco's mind. They sit there until the tears stop coming, and then a little longer, as Harry rests his cheek against Draco's startlingly pale hair and murmurs words of comfort into the cool air around them. When Harry pulls away, he does so slowly, and when Draco searches his eyes he sees no sign of regret or annoyance, only an overwhelming amount of care and underlying affection.

"You alright now?"

"Better, yes." They both know he isn't truly alright, but 'better' is something and Harry accepts it.

"Good. I think we've missed lunch, so I'm going to head down to the kitchens, if you want to come with me?"

"That'd be great," Draco relinquishes a small smile as he wipes at his face with the back of his hand. Harry offers a warm smile in return, before standing and extending a hand to help Draco up.

"Potter," Draco pauses as they move to leave the bathroom. "Why did you come in here in the first place?"  
This throws Harry for a moment, before something seems to click as he looks down and laughs. "I got ink all over my hands, so I came in to wash it off. Amazingly, I seem to have forgotten that I'm a wizard, and there are much better ways to remove it."

Draco isn't sure what's quite so hilarious about it all, but he smiles affectionately as Harry chuckles anyway. "Well, I'm glad that that minor piece of information seemed to slip your mind."

Harry sobers quickly but smiles, extending an arm to touch Draco's wrist comfortingly. "So am I."


End file.
